Bird Of Paradise
by Neko Oni
Summary: SetoxYami. Yami is engaged to Seto, the richest man on the island. But troubling memories of the past come back to haunt him.
1. morning meeting

WARNINGS: Um...as of now, only yaoi (mxm) and some swearing

SUMMARY: inspired by Pirates of Carribean movie. The sea, and freedom, call to his heart, but his engagement takes his life in another direction. Can he walk both paths?

PAIRINGS: Seto x Yami, Malik x Ryou (others as of yet undecided)

DISCLAIMER: Stands for entire fic. I don't own, and am making no money off of this.

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BIRD OF PARADISE

By Neko Oni

Yami frowned and narrowed his eyes in concentration, but the blazing sun made his tired vision blur. He wiped off the dripping sweat, pushing back the wavy golden bangs sticking to his tanned face. He was picking fresh pomegranates to sell at the docks tomorrow. The branches with in easy reach were scoured clean, each robbed of their choicest fruit. The basket at his feet was nearly full.

The seventeen year old stretched once more, going as high as his tip toes could, but his fingertips barely brushed the fruit's ripe, red bottom. He grunted in consternation, then swayed on his feet. He caught himself on the white washed fence, whimpering in pain as the plaster cast on his broken arm bumped into the rough, painted wood. He heard gulls cry in the distance, and the angry smashing of waves against the unyielding stone cliff as high tide set in.

Yami, along with Yugi, spent much of his time by the shore. He loved the beat of the waves lulling him to sleep, curled up next to his hikari, at night, the moonlight reflecting off of the dark water, or the sun turning it a brilliant turquoise at dawn, the sky blazing pink and smelling of salt and fish. Yami hugged his broken arm, shifting the sling over on his chest. He would miss living in the lighthouse, living on the shore. He didn't want to live in the village. He ran a hand over the rough plaster, tears burning the back of his eyes. Why did he have to be so stupid? If he hadn't, Grandpa wouldn't be loosing his job-

Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Yami's crimson eyes flew open, tears sparkling like diamonds on his thick, dark lashes. A beautiful mare was leisurely trotting down the sandy dirt road. She was tall; easily, the tallest horse in Barbados. Her head was high, ears back disdainfully, and her glossy, sienna coat gleamed in the sun. She was a Thoroughbred, imported from some place called the United States. Belle was as haughty and disdainful as her master, Seto Kaiba, whose family owned practically all of the island.

Yami scowled as Seto saw him and pulled back on the reins. "Kaiba."

TBC


	2. future promises

"Yami." With a snort, Belle danced to a stop, giving an impatient toss of her head as Seto dismounted and casually looped her reins around a fence rail. "You shouldn't be picking fruit in your condition."

Yami arched his back and squared his shoulders, trying to make himself taller. Seto ducked under the first rail and stood up besides him, easily towering over the younger boy with his long, lanky frame. His chestnut hair was rumpled from the wind and dusted with dried, salty spray; he'd no doubt ridden his prize-winning mare along the beach.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you."

"Then why are you about to cry?" Seto smirked and stepped in so close their bodies were almost touching.

Yami felt his cheeks heat and he narrowed his eyes. The slight motion caused the tears resting on his lashes to fall. "I'm not crying."

"Really?" The taller boy raised a sardonic eyebrow and crossed his arms, but not stepping out of Yami's personal space.

Yami felt his face turning redder. Hastily, he stepped back. "I-I have work to do. Unlike you." Yami did his best to ignore Seto and tried once more to reach with his good hand for the fruit. Grunting, Yami jumped desperately, his fingers grazing the side of the fruit. Before he could grasp it, he wobbled and fell backwards.

Strong arms deftly wrapped around his slim waist, pulling him into a leanly muscled chest. Where the noble touched him, he burned and his breathing started to increase. Yami's head swam, and this time it was not from heat or being tired.

"I hate repeating myself. You're not fit to be doing this." Seto's deep voice rumbled in his ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin.

Yami turned in Seto's arms, tilting his head backwards to stare up at him. "I'm not finished."

Seto's smirk widened, his blue eyes deep and intense. "Yes, you are. You couldn't carry the basket as it is, anyway."

"It isn't full yet." Seto reached up and lazily yanked the pomegranate, tossed it into the basket, and chuckled darkly.

"Now it is." Yami's glare melted when Seto pulled him closer to his body, and brushed the back of his hand over Yami's soft cheeks. "We'll be married in a few months, and you'll leave the village, live in my family's mansion. You'll have a balcony facing the sea. I promise." Yami closed his eyes, and buried his face in Seto's chest, his fingers latching onto Seto's crisp, white linen shirt. Seto held him tightly and kissed the top of his head, cradling the delicate body in his strong arms until Yami's bony shoulders stopped shaking. "Lets get your pomegranates home before the heat ruins them."

Yami nodded and pulled back, wiping at his eyes. He was glad Seto happened to come by; otherwise, he didn't know how he'd get the heavy basket home with only one hand. He hadn't thought about that this morning. He had only wanted to be out of that house; packing was cleaving his heart in two.

Packing meant saying good-bye to everything he'd known and loved. He didn't exactly aspire to be a lighthouse keeper, as the Motou family had for generations. But moving meant leaving the sea, and his dreams, behind. No more freedom, no more choices of the future to make. Moving meant living all that behind. As did marriage to Seto Kaiba. Yami loved him, but he didn't know if he was ready for marriage. He wanted to get out and see the world, not shackle himself to a hearth.

Yami was numb and listless as Seto attached the basket to the saddle, mounted, then pulled Yami into his lap. He was quiet on the way home, bobbing along with the rise and fall of Belle's trot. Seto sat the fruit basket by the stone wall of the small house, kissed Yami's forehead, then left. Yami stood by the door, watching him leave, love and sadness clawing his heart.

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	3. scandal

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Yami pushed the weathered door open. It was cooler inside. Wooden boxes, frayed baskets and worn sacks were packed with the meager belongings of the Motous. It was a scandal whispered throughout the village, from the magistrates down to the fishmongers, and Yami was the cause of it. Well, his mother had started it years ago, and he'd finished it.

Yami went into the kitchen, and poured himself a drink from the dented metal pitcher. Yugi had gone early in the morning to pump fresh water from the well. He sat at the small, round table, gulped the warm water down, then slumped over, his head resting on his folded arm.

His world was unraveling, and it was his own fault. The scandal started with his and Yugi's mother. The fact that they both had different fathers- and nobody knew who those fathers were- haunted them every time they went into the villiage. Bastard offspring. Yami snorted; he didn't care what any of those idiots thought. Seto certainly didn't care. Seto's family certainly weren't pleased with it, but that would only make Seto want him more.

Since their mother never married, she became the next lighthouse keeper. A female lighthouse keeper; that was unheard of. Yami was proud of her, for following her heart and doing what she wanted, even if it did cause her death. Six months ago, she'd tripped and fallen down the steep, spiraling metal stair case. Her neck snapped, and she was dead instantly. At least she hadn't felt any pain.

Yami pressed a hand over his eyes. He missed her. They all did. Grandpa had come out of retirement, taking on his old duties. It was hard- too hard. His aged bones couldn't stand the grueling climb to the top to refill the oil so the lamp could continuously burn. After much argument, Yami had taken over. Things went well for a month, then Yami fell on the steps. He escaped with only a concussion and a broken arm, and had to have bed rest for a week. After that, he and Yugi had been banned from the lighthouse steps.

Now, since no one could take on the duties of light keeper, the Motous were moving to the village, where grandfather had gotten a job from an old friend of his. Yami hated it there; the looks people gave them, the pointed stares, and loud whispers. All the rules of etiquette; this was proper, and that wasn't. He should do this, it wasn't nice to do that. Yami pulled a face and tossed his cup into the sink, where it pinged off the other chipped, dirty dishes.

"GRANDPA?" Yugi's voice floated in.

Tbc…

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Review. You know you want to.


	4. past life pirates

"GRANDPA?" Yugi's voice floated in. Yami got up and followed it across the hall and into the first bedroom, Grandpa's room.

Except for a few everyday items, all of Grandpa's stuff had been packed, and Yugi was on the bed with a dusty old tin box in his lap. "Yugi?"

Yugi looked up and smiled wide. "Yami? How you feeling? Come look at this!" Yami grunted in response and plopped down on the frayed quilt, the rickety bed frame creaking. "Look! Pirates!" Yugi squealed. Yami leaned in close, peering down into the box. The papers in there were old and yellow, decades old. There were wanted posters of pirates. Bakura The Fiend, Marik The Black, Malik The Red. The three most notorious pirates to ever sail the seven seas. But they were long gone and dead, as was the Golden Age of Piracy. Nothing remained but legends and stories.

"This stuff is really old! I never knew Grandpa had any of this!"

"Me either!" Yugi exclaimed. "And check this out!" He picked up a pile of old, crinkled black and white photographs that were sitting besides him.

Yami peered at the first picture. "Oh my God! That looks l-like m-me and K-Kura!" The pirate called The Fiend greatly resembled the blacksmith's son, Bakura, except The Fiend was darker, more muscled, a little bit taller, his hair was shorter and choppy, and over his left eye and cheek was a vicious scar. The smaller boy in his arms was a replica of Yami, except for the tan skin and heavy gold earrings.

Yugi giggled excitedly. "I know! This is so creepy!" The next picture had two brothers, The Black and The Red. Their blonde hair was tousled, their skin burnt almost black, and they each had a bottle of rum. They greatly resembled the Ishtar twins, sons of the village doctor. Leaning against The Red was a willowy creature with fair hair and sun darkened skin; the younger brother, no doubt, of The Fiend. This fey youth resembled Bakura's own younger brother, who worked in the village tavern.

"This is almost scary." Yami wasn't sure if he wanted to see more pictures, but morbid curiosity held him fast. Who were these people? There were secrets in their eyes, but each was happy in his world. Yami envied them greatly.

At fifteen, Yugi was far more excited than afraid. The resemblances were freaky, but the secrecy behind them was delicious. Yugi burned to know who they were, what were they like.

"It's great, isn't it?"

Yami grimaced. "It's freaky." The third and final picture was of some haughty noble, no doubt the governor's son, richly dressed with a contemptuous sneer on his handsome face. His resemblance to Seto make Yami feel dizzy. Standing next to him, looking about to cry, was a look alike of Yugi. Apparently, not everyone had been happy in that


End file.
